Bringing home the bookcase This is the story of how I brought home a 6' bookcase on the TTC.→[More:]

I'm working on renovating a bedroom in my house right now as my niece Peaches Swan may be coming to stay with me for four weeks, starting mid-February. One item I wanted for the room was a bookcase. Last week I went to the Canadian Tire near me to get a 6' bookcase, but they were out of the bookcases in the stain I wanted. However, the sales associate helpfully showed me the computer listing of Toronto-area stores that stocked them.

Accordingly Wednesday night I went to Lawrence Square mall on my way home to get the 6’ bookcase for the back bedroom. I don't have a car. The fun began when I hauled the bookcase out of the store and towards the parking lot.

The box wasn’t that heavy, maybe 40 to 50 pounds, which I can manage, but it was awkward. The box was long and smooth and I couldn’t get a grip on it. It slid through my hands. If I tried to wrap my arms around it it just slipped down my parka sleeves. I should have had the Canadian Tire employees wrap packing tape around it to create a couple of handles, but didn’t think of it before I left. I knew I was in trouble when I could barely get the box across the parking lot to the bus stop. A man asked if he could help me, and I thanked him but declined. Ten feet later another man insisted on helping me, and the two of us carried it to the bus stop together. A woman helped me get it onto the bus but even so it was really difficult getting it up those steps.

I wasn’t quite clear on what the best bus connections were (meaning the ones that would get me home with minimal box lugging as opposed to the connections that would get me home quickly), so I took the Lawrence bus to Weston Road, standing and holding the box up all the way. I had to cross the street twice to get to the bus stop. I thought I’d never make it, but by stopping every four feet to get a better grip and dragging the box, I did manage to get across before the light changed. But I didn’t know how I’d ever get the box home. I have chronic fatigue issues, which means I have no stamina, and my strength was already gone. When I finally got to the bus stop, another man helped me move the box the last six feet and told me when the bus arrived he would carry it onto the bus for me. I thanked him profusely.

The bus arrived, and the two of us boarded, and found a double seat in the middle of the bus. We put the box in front of my seat where I could support it with my knees. The man sat beside me and we chatted about odd things we’ve taken on the bus, about the relative driving skills of the various TTC drivers, and because I quoted from a Bob Newhart routine about bus driver training school, the conversation segued into one about radio programs. I did my best imitation of Rowan Atkinson’s "Welcome to Hell" routine, which the man seemed to enjoy.

I figured the most direct route home for me was to go to Keele station. From there it was just one stop to a station which had a bus that went right by Swan’s End. It still made for two connections and a walk across the subway station.

This man said, though he was headed the other way on the subway, he would go that one stop in the other direction with me and put the box on the bus for me. I tried to demur because that seemed WAY too much of an imposition on a stranger, but he insisted. And that’s what he did do. I carried his bags for him while he toted the bookcase through the station. We chatted about moving men (his experiences being one, my experiences hiring them) and a shop just off my street that a friend of his owned. Then when the bus came, he put the box on it for me. I tried to pay him for the help, but he just wouldn’t take the money. And let's just say he really looked like he could have used it. Of course I thanked him repeatedly and fervently.

After that it wasn’t such a big deal to get home, though I did have to keep up a running mental pep talk of, “Not much farther. You’re almost there. Not much farther…” while I was dragging the box across the street twice, up my front walk and porch steps, and into the house. I put the box in the entry way, where it still is, and went straight upstairs to have a nap. Later today, or tomorrow, I’ll open the box and carry the bookcase pieces upstairs a few at a time. The bookcase better not be defective in any way, because I don’t exactly want to have to take it back to the store.

I feel terribly embarrassed to have gotten myself into a situation where I needed to impose on others like that. But I'll never forget that guy and how incredibly kind he was to go so much out of his way for me.